


love like strawberries

by meliorus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cooking, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Valentine's Day, copious amounts of strawberry and tooth rotting fluff, implied sex, they're gross y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliorus/pseuds/meliorus
Summary: "Osamu coaxes happiness out of him with such little effort. It’s in the everyday things."The one where Keiji cooks for his boyfriend.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	love like strawberries

The summer is insufferable this year. The humidity is probably the worst part, Osamu thinks as he pushes his hair back from his forehead. He briefly considers whether incorporating those caps for Onigiri Miya was a reasonable idea. He shouldn’t complain, business is doing better than he expected and being busy suits him. Tonight, all Osamu wants to do is return home, eat the cold noodles take-out from his friend’s restaurant and sleep next to his boyfriend. 

Pushing open the door to his apartment, he finds Keiji at the small kitchen. 

“Welcome home,” Keiji says softly, barely audible. Spending all those years with Atsumu and his loud voice made it difficult for Osamu to hear his own boyfriend in the first few months of their relationship but he thinks he may have gotten a hang of it now. 

“Hey baby,” he replies, setting down the take-out on the kitchen counter. “You look good.”

Keiji in an apron was a recent development. Osamu often returned home tired from cooking all day with no energy left to make anything for himself. A month ago, Keiji decided to start learning how to cook, to take the load off Osamu, especially since Keiji had begun to spend multiple nights in his apartment. To Osamu’s amusement, Keiji’s first few attempts at making yakisoba and kimchi udon noodles do not pan out as planned. He forgets the salt for the kimchi, and the yakisoba somehow had the wrong sauce. 

Keiji kisses Osamu’s cheeks quickly, tying the apron at the same time. “Taking a shower?” 

Osamu nods, and sticks the takeout in the fridge. Before leaving, he drops his head again to kiss Keiji’s forehead. He would love to stand here and kiss his boyfriend properly like he deserves, like they both deserve, but the sweat and humidity of the day sticks to his skin uncomfortably. “I’ll be quick, wait for me.”

  
  
♡

Keiji squints at the recipe on his phone while Osamu takes a shower. He may have failed to make noodles previously, but he is not one to give up. He wants to learn _something_ , and make it for his boyfriend. Earlier that day he had an epiphany that he may as well give desserts a try, since he has a little more experience with those. Making cupcakes twice in middle school counts, right?

And so he stares at the fairly simple recipe for a strawberry compote. Strawberries are Osamu’s favorite fruits, and while Keiji considered making this before he arrived home so he could surprise him, Keiji figured he’d need some supervision. Cooking alone was evidently not the best idea. 

He lines up a colander, a pan and a jar on the counter. He pours sugar into a measuring cup and sets it aside. The recipe didn’t seem like much effort, but Keiji wanted to be sure he got everything right before they began. 

  
♡  
  


Osamu emerges from his quick shower to find Keiji studying the recipe. He’s mouthing the instructions, attempting to memorize them entirely. 

“Let’s start?” 

Keiji nods, broken from his reverie. It’s cute how stressed he is about something that seems rather simple, but that’s how Keiji was. Osamu stands against the counter and watches Keiji.

  1. **wash and hull the strawberries**



Keiji has slender fingers, Osamu observes. His fingers look paler in contrast to the bright red strawberries Keiji bought. The colander goes under the tap, and then Keiji shakes it around a little. Next he wraps the wet strawberries in cloth and dries them off delicately. He then cuts the calyx off the strawberries carefully. 

“Tell me if I’m doing this right.”

The kitchen knife looks good in his hand. Keiji’s hands are delicate and lean, and the tendons on the back of his hand move like shifting rivers. He holds each strawberry carefully and cuts them into neat halves methodically. It’s hard to imagine these are the same hands that burnt noodles two months ago. 

“You’ve got this baby.”

**2\. cook the strawberries in a saucepan with sugar and water**

While Keiji dumps the cut strawberries into the saucepan, Osamu picks up a stray berry, and bites into it. The juice bursts into his mouth, both sour and sweet. Before Keiji can admonish him, Osamu raises his arm and offers the half-bitten strawberry to him. 

The tip of Osamu’s thumb touches Keiji’s lips, leaving some of the juice behind. Keiji swallows. His eyes are shining. 

“Don’t forget the sugar,” Osamu says after a moment.

Keiji smiles a small smile, lips pink with strawberry juice. “Wouldn’t dare forget.”

**3\. cook at medium heat while stirring**

Osamu walks over, and watches the pan with Keiji. The strawberries soften, and begin to lose color.

“This is supposed to happen, don’t worry.” Keiji looks at the blanching strawberries, squinting a little in concentration. It’s the same look he has when hunched over countless pages, editing and re-editing. 

“I wasn’t worried,” says Osamu lightly.

“They’ll gain color again, I read about it.”

Osamu touches his hip to Keiji’s, brushing an elbow against his. 

“Alright,” Osamu says. 

**4\. reduce the heat to low and stir again**

The strawberries redden slowly, turning from a baby pink to a blush pink to a bright red. Osamu turns and sees Keiji smile, in lieu of a “I told you so”. Osamu kisses the side of Keiji’s head, just above his ear. Keiji ducks a little, wanting to hide the pink blush riding up his neck.

Keiji quickly dips his spatula into the simmering mix, and swipes his index finger across. The bright red liquid rests on the tip of the finger he offers to Osamu. Osamu bends, licks the compote off his boyfriend’s finger. 

It’s sweet, with a tinge of sourness. It’s tarty. Keiji’s finger rests between Osamu’s lips a second longer. 

Osamu kisses his finger, and nods. 

Keiji grins.

**5\. pour into a jar and store in a refrigerator for up to two weeks**

Osamu watches Keiji pour the mixture into a pint jar, with his head on Keiji’s shoulder. He fits easily, warm and comfortable. His fingers stray to the knot of the apron at the small of Keiji’s back. 

“Keiji.”

“Mhmm?” 

Osamu has never made compote before but the consistency looks about right. There are generous chunks of strawberry falling into the jar with soft plops. He can’t wait to have this for breakfast tomorrow with pancakes. He’d have to make the pancakes however, because he was quite sure Keiji spent all the culinary skills he had on this compote.

“I love ya.”

The spatula in Keiji’s hand stills.

It’s not like they haven’t said these words to each other, but it was still new. The Big Three words belonged in the bedroom, in the narrow space between their chests in the dark, with only moonlight as the witness. 

Their table fan whirs nearby, the only sound in between their heartbeats, one faster than the other. Keiji swivels around to face the cautiously expectant expression on Osamu’s face. 

Keiji thinks of his extra toothbrush in Osamu’s bathroom he uses more often than his own back home and the wooly scarf Osamu bought for him in a thrift store in the middle of winter. He thinks of the way Osamu always settles his head on his lap when they’re watching television together, and the neat scrawl of his handwriting on the margins of the countless recipes he has. Recipes perfected with time, and effort, and love. 

Osamu loves carefully. While Atsumu loves desperately and with a hunger paralleled by none, love for Osamu is a slow fire that needs to be tended to. Keiji knows this, because he loves the same way. They had both hung their jerseys up for a final time, stood out of the light of their brighter counterparts and spun a future out of their mediocrity. There's beauty and warmth in that.

He thinks of how warm the day was today, made warmer with Osamu’s bath-warm skin against his back and nape. He burns a little under Osamu’s steady fire, but it’s everything he wants.

“I love you too.”

It comes easy. Perhaps the phrase had already made a home on Keiji’s tongue, having practiced it in front of mirrors, and then whispered in between sleepy kisses. 

Osamu swallows, a little dazed. There isn’t much of a height difference between them, with Keiji only having to lift his head slightly to kiss Osamu. Osamu tightens his grip on the small of Keiji’s back, untying the apron and pressing him closer. Keiji doesn’t hesitate to wind his arms around his boyfriend's nape and pull him closer, fingers finding purchase in his soft hair. They kiss again, and again. 

“We have to have dinner,” Keiji reminds, pulling back—just by scant centimeters— from Osamu. Keiji is hot all over, and registers Osamu’s reaction to his red face. Osamu never stopped getting used to knowing how Keiji’s body surges up in response to his touch.

Osamu picks up Keiji easily, wrapping his legs around his waist, and pushes him up the empty side of the kitchen counter. “Mhmm, later.”

“Osamu…” Keiji’s thoughts are interrupted by Osamu’s mouth on his collarbones. 

He feels his skin blazing under Osamu’s wandering mouth. His lips are glossy, and work their way down from his neck. 

“Bedroom,” Keiji gasps in response to Osamu biting down on his soft skin. Osamu nods, eyes dark and heady, and obliges quickly. Keiji won’t admit it outside of this room, but he loves being picked up by Osamu, and loves how his strong, sinewy arms feel under his thighs. They kiss languidly, even as Osamu kicks open the door to his bedroom. 

The take-out noodles spend the night untouched in the fridge.

  
♡  
  
  


Keiji wakes up too warm. Sunlight explodes through the windows, reminding a bleary-eyed Keiji of a new day. The previous day comes back to him in pieces. Strawberries, and the heady cologne Osamu uses. He smiles softly. 

He can guess from the delicious smell wafting in from the half-open door that Osamu is out in the kitchen making pancakes to go with his compote. His smile grows wider, and Keiji buries his face in a pillow. Even with no audience, wearing happiness so plainly for the universe to witness is new for Keiji. Osamu coaxes happiness out of him with such little effort. It’s in the everyday things.

Osamu walks in with a plate of pancakes, red compote glistening on top, complete with fresh cream. The sunlight is kind on the creases on his face, years of laughter having made a permanent home in him. A vision in gold.

Keiji thinks he wouldn’t mind getting used to this.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> endless thank yous to [alex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyscapes/pseuds/skyscapes)  
> [juls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawakaga/pseuds/sawakaga) and [tim](https://twitter.com/boludokawa) for helping me out with this, fluff is not my forte at all but osaaka deserve all the pink, love and strawberries. 
> 
> i made myself strawberry compote this morning and can't wait to have it with pancakes tomorrow. happy valentine's day! ♡
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/catkoushi)


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